Graybat Drabbles // Dick Grayson x Barbara Gordon

The Detective and the Dame

1943. 

Detective Richard Grayson was chasing a lead on a Nazi spy in Gotham's swankiest bar. He felt out of place, surrounded by ladies and gentlemen in silk dresses and cotton tuxedoes. The one percent of Gotham, hiding out from the war and the poverty on the other side of the river. 

"There's a bullet hole in your cuff, the cheapest beer available in your glass, and you don't have an accent. Either you're a soldier, or," a red haired woman flicked her hair out of her eyes, setting the crystal clear glass of wine on the counter, "you're a spy." 

Dick turned to look at the woman speaking. Gotham accent. She was from around here, but the flaming hair suggested Irish descent. Pearls around her neck. She was rich, probably someone's newlywed wife or engaged. But there was no ring on her finger. "That depends. If you're one of Hitler's many men, I'd probably have to tell you I'm a spy to survive, hmm?" The woman sat up on a stool next to him.

"Well, that depends too. Do you really think Hitler would hire someone like me to kill innocents? I can barely look at a grazed knee without vomiting." She held out her hand. "Barbara Gordon. My friends call me Babs. Unfortunately, I don't have any friends to use that name." 

"Dick Grayson." He shook her hand. She was stronger than he thought, but the sleeves of her dress covered any possible muscle she could have. "What's a pretty lady like you doing out here? Here with your husband?" 

"Husband?" She let out a laugh. "I don't need any 'gentleman' bossing me around. I can barely make it down the street without some horrible man asking me if I need help crossing the road." Barbara folded her arms. "Don't tell me you're one of those kinds of men. I'm actually starting to like you." 

Dick bit his lip. "Well, a lady shouldn't have to defend herself in a city like this. It can get dangerous, especially in a time of war. Patrick Wayne can only do so much to keep the streets clean." He straightened his tie before Barbara suddenly punched him. 

"Apologies, Mr Grayson. I'm just a tad offended that in this day and age that you still believe women cannot protect themselves." She brushed down her dress, then grabbed her purse. "Good night to you, sir. I hope that we can reunite once more when you have a less nasoganistic mind set."